As Churchill and Ben Franklin before him noted, most of the time, when a man stumbles over the truth, he dusts himself off, gets back up, and carries on as if nothing had happened.
Today I'm going to relate an experience of mine, from back in the late 1980s, wherein I did precisely that.
Picture the 1980s in your mind. Recall an era where even such supremely geeky activities as competitive mathematics at the national level had female 'hangers-on' who would be considered very attractive by today's standards (many pushing the 80th and low 90th percentiles), due to the much, much lower prevalence of obesity. Recall also the vastly less uptight relations between the sexes, in the SMP/MMP and outside.
Consider a young, very tall and ectomorphic non-neurotypical with nearly nonexistent emulation. He and a couple of his friends encounter two of these hangers-on--one being easily in the 90th-95th percentile of today's attractiveness, and the other being probably around 75th by today's standards. Both are nice, Southern, and very visibly Catholic girls. For some reason---to this day I'm not certain why---I drop what amounts to a nuclear neg, very insulting to Catholics in general, although not delivered with any heat or venom. What happened afterwards was seriously shocking. Instead of taking actual offense instead of pro forma offense, she proceeded to shower me with affection and basically make me her boyfriend for the duration of the competition. Of course, lacking any game, or even the framework to understand this bizarre turn of events, my follow through was very lacking. And, in keeping with Churchill and Franklin, I more or less picked my self back afterwards and conducted my relationships for years afterwards according to the socially approved (officially) 'blue pill' standards. But the insight was available to me all that time had I the inclination to analyze it.
The girl was used to being the 'belle of the ball', having a social circle primarily composed of math geeks. She was almost certainly used to a large amount of supplication on their part. The nuclear neg thus found a very receptive target, even impressing her less attractive friend. Being essentially 'on holiday', she was primed to be open to a strange man. Too bad I didn't distill this knowledge down into something useful for at least five more years.
The takeaway for my younger readers, particularly of the non-neurotypical sort, is that a lot of what we call game techniques work pretty damned well even if deployed totally by accident, even if you have very little neurotypical emulation at all. The most powerful of which, against women in the 80th and low 90th percentiles of attractiveness, is the appearance of not giving a damn what they think about you without projecting any hostility or venom.
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